


You Have My Attention

by thankyouandyou



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thankyouandyou/pseuds/thankyouandyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m not a fucking suitcase," he says, "the two of you can’t just pass me around."</p>
<p>Stiles bounces on the bed, sighs, "no, you’re not, think of yourself as a pet, rather, a mutt, if you will. Scott left you with me and I’m taking care of you for the summer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Have My Attention

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this pre-season three, so it follows the events of the season two finale and you could call it an AU from then on.

 

"I’m not a fucking suitcase," he says, "the two of you can’t just pass me around."

Stiles bounces on the bed, sighs, "no, you’re not, think of yourself as a pet, rather, a mutt, if you will. Scott left you with me and I’m taking care of you for the summer."

It’s the way he says it, _I’m taking care of you_ , and it doesn’t mean what Isaac would want it to mean but fuck if his head gets that. Stiles always seems to know what buttons to push, whether to make people angry or compliant, and in this case it doesn’t take much- look at the starved boy here, so easily baited, falling for stupid things, nothings as simple as  _I don’t want you to get hurt_.

He shakes his head. What is it with you and boys that take initiative, what is it with you and boys that take you in.

He could still say no, but it’s the packed bags at his feet, Isaac tells himself now and will tell Stiles later on, his bedroom stripped naked around him, like it’s a done deal and resistance is futile because Stiles decided. It would take too long to unpack now, and deep down Isaac knows he doesn’t like the silence. The house would sound strange, with just one set of footsteps in it.

That’s why he nods,  _yes, fine_ ,  _alright_ , why he picks up his bags and moves out the door, into the jeep and through another front door and onto another air mattress.

~

Stiles’ air mattress is just as uncomfortable as Scott’s had been, they must have bought them together, like all their ugly sweaters in their pictures from middle school, and Isaac wriggles around, thinking, well, some things never change.

Stiles’ room is as alive and frenzied as he is, full of books and posters, year-old notes and candy wrappers, stacks of comic books instead of clothes in his wardrobe.

Stiles’ father is working nights and he wasn’t in the house when they got there. Isaac is lying there, in Stiles’ collage of a room, watching Stiles’ body silhouetted by the the light in the hallway as he takes off his sweater and walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He feels like a foreign object in there. 

"Why the fuck did you bring me here," he snaps in the silence. Comes off petulant, but he figures he’s allowed.

"Isaac," Stiles’ voice echoes from the bathroom, and that’s all he says for a while. It’s unlike him, Stiles likes talking until he falls asleep. Isaac knows that from their weeks in the Hale house last spring, when Scott and Stiles just wouldn’t shut up, arguing about nonsense deep into the night in the next room.

Tonight, Scott’s miles away, and Stiles climbs into bed, crosses his arms under his head and tells him simply, "I know you’re not happy with this arrangement, but it’s just for the summer and my dad likes you, and he’s the town Sheriff, and he doesn’t believe in teenage kids living alone."

Isaac blinks at the ceiling. There are shapes in the paint, lighter patches with pointy edges, and he can tell there were glow-in-the-dark stars glued there, not too long ago.

He doesn't want to say thank you, so he tells Stiles, "I like your room."

After that, it’s quiet, and Isaac sleeps.

~

The Sheriff likes him, that much is true, and he does believe that teenagers shouldn't be living alone. Isaac doesn’t tell him that he’s been doing the living alone thing almost for as long as he can remember, though he can guess the Sheriff probably already knows.

That said, it’s not hard to figure out that the moving force behind Isaac’s relocation at the Stilinski residence was not the Sheriff, just Scott and Stiles conspiring. Isaac should be feeling baited, he should be upset about being lied to, but moving out now would be excessive, too much work. Isaac’s toothbrush is already in the plastic cup in the bathroom and his empty suitcases stored under Stiles’ bed, the Sheriff nodding his goodmornings at them over his paper the next morning, saying, "you’re doing me a favor, Isaac. Stiles was never good at being without Scott for a long time. At three days on his own, he starts bouncing off the walls. Remember camp in 2001?"

Stiles grunts and glares at his cereal. "He was gone for a  _month."_

Isaac nods and holds out his hand. The Sheriff takes it.

"Thank you for having me. You didn’t have to."

The Sheriff pats him on the shoulder getting up. Isaac wonders why everyone in this family has such a soft spot for stray mutts.

He wonders if he’s taking Stiles' dog metaphor too far.

~

Stiles hollers " _catch!"_  and pitches the keys from the front porch across the lawn. Isaac has his back turned and he’s scrolling down the contacts on his phone, and it’s still incredible, the strings that pull him, the instinct that spins him around, tells him to raise his arm and open his hand.   
  
The keys are warm, like Stiles had been holding them for a while. Their little metal teeth are biting into Isaac’s skin, and Stiles is grinning on the porch, the sun hitting him, bleaching him out.   
  
"You’re taking the dog metaphor too far, man," Isaac shouts, the corners of his mouth curving up, up.   
  
"Be back by dinnertime, Pogo," Stiles shouts back, and Isaac flips him off, the key ring slipped around his middle finger.

 

 


End file.
